


a semicolon hovering where something once was menacing

by s0dafucker



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: F/F, First Time, Genderswap, Loss of Virginity, Smut, author's first time writing a first time, bc the author is a lesbian with no self control, kind of PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 23:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13751541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0dafucker/pseuds/s0dafucker
Summary: porn w/o plot?? nah nahawkward porn w/ lots of feelings is where its at





	a semicolon hovering where something once was menacing

their fingers intertwine, elle a bundle of nerves and butterflies but somehow finding confidence in black nail polish and a soft hoodie and the piece of hair falling in connie’s face that she tucks behind her ear. connie is sharp edges and dark colors and harsh words but when they are alone she melts into elle’s arms and she is blue eyes and warm hands that cautiously roam elle’s body, finding soft skin and curves that arch into her touch, asking with a quirk of her eyebrows if she is crossing any lines and elle answers her with lips pressed together, sharing each other’s breath and trading silent secrets in the way elle’s hands knit into connie’s hair and connie traces the small of her back.

their noses bump together and it makes both of them giggle softly, the pair of them who are blue t shirts and shared earbuds and kissing the backs of hands between classes, the smell of weed and the hand lotion elle uses and the underlying scents of their skin mixed together until everything is shared, everything in the world belongs to both of them, and when elle moves her lips to connie’s neck she makes the most beautiful sound, and elle wants to say she is falling more in love, but what is really happening is that she’s getting more _turned on._

she takes the little noises connie makes as indicators she is doing this right, marking a roadmap of kisses from her jaw to her collarbone and her fingers find connie’s hoodie, helping her out of it as their mouths meet again and _hungry_ replaces _tender_ as words to describe their kiss. their fingers find the hems of each other’s shirts and connie whispers, ‘is this okay?’ because they’ve decided that tonight is the night, but how do you go about the night, exactly, where do you learn this language of skin and mouths and sighs and elle is grateful she took her meds this morning and all it takes to ground her is connie’s blue eyes and she nods.

their shirts don’t come off as smoothly as anyone’s do in the movies, closer to the way they do in porn, the amatuer stuff where there’s a spark and secret little glances, and it’s not even that smooth, it’s awkward and connie mutters this little ‘shit,’ when her shirt gets stuck and it makes elle laugh so much she’s not helpful at all and then they find the rhythm again, just with more skin this time, and that doesn’t sound like much, but shirts cover a lot of skin, and elle is suddenly feeling parts of connie she has never touched before, her shoulder blades that are sharp and yet somehow soft, the nape of her neck melding with her spine, soft and damp with sweat and connie’s touch somehow feels brand new and like an old comfort at the same time as her long fingers calloused palms short fingernails burn scars trace the parts of elle she’s never shared with anyone.

‘is everything you wear black?’ she asks, fingers running along connie’s bra strap, smiling, and connie huffs a quiet laugh.

‘why don’t you undress me and find out?’ she retorts, and they both blush pink, and elle barely stutters when she says ‘fine.’

they go jeans first, because that is the unspoken order they’ve somehow decided on, because if they do shirts and then jeans it’s not anything they haven’t seen in gym class, in side glances in the locker room and the sleepovers with janie, and they can go in order of what they’ve seen with their eyes and then imaginations and neither of them calculated for connie’s skinny jeans and the effort they take, or the fact that somehow elle hands are less steady on buttons than skin but eventually they work it out and it turns out connie’s panties are black, and lacey, with a little bow that makes elle think of victoria’s secret and standing in front of one of those big drawers of pretty underwear with alan and janie and picking four different pairs that she had to number so she could use one of those random number generators at 6pm after her dad had left for work to choose the pair she’s wearing now, gray and soft and matching the bralette that janie made her spend $20 on.

she supposes that there is something poetic about their differences, the black lace and gray cotton, curves and sharp hip bones, but she doesn’t reflect on it because she is too busy wondering if she could keep her socks on, because the movies are vague about the process and porn skips this part and she realizes that connie is probably wondering the same thing, because she reaches down to pick at the tops of her socks- they’re the ones that made elle laugh so hard janie was worried at prom, the ‘i don’t care, i’m high’ socks, and they spend a moment sitting on elle’s bed, her bed in her room with the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and the ikea comforter, taking their socks off and throwing them on the floor with their shirts. connie has the nicest thighs, elle notes, now that she’s finally getting to look at them, they’re softer than the rest of her, softer than you’d expect, and connie’s hands find her hips, her perfect hands fitting snugly around her.

‘you’re so nice.’ connie murmurs. her lips have found the side of elle’s neck as she tilts her head to admire the way her fingers trace shapes in connie’s pale thighs. ‘you’re like, the prettiest.’ her teeth nip at the soft skin and elle’s hands close at the feeling, a noise slipping past her lips. ‘oh shit,’ connie breathes. ‘do that again.’ she bites a little harder and it’s _good_ , it’s what janie told her getting a hickey felt like when she came back from band camp talking about a colorguard girl with nice tits and a pretty smile who told great jokes and now janie’s stories about secondhand breasts are in her head and connie pulls back from her neck and rests their foreheads together.

‘you, uh, you okay?’

‘yeah.’ connie says, and they’re both smiling, breaths coming a little shallow, exhaling warmth into each other. ‘just wanted to check in, y’know, make sure i’m not moving too fast or anything.’

‘i mean, this is pretty good. i mean, i’m okay with this.’

elle doesn’t know if ‘can i touch your boobs’ is an okay question, and obviously they don’t ask it in porn, but besides that, they don’t explain jackshit in health class, even in the consent lesson, and janie was never clear on the details except ‘make sure you know what she’s okay with and expect it to be kinda awkward’ in between bragging, and so the only thing that comes out is ‘can i,’ but she’s tracing the front of connie’s bra and feels her face flush as she says it so connie knows what she means and she goes red and nods.

she takes elle’s hands and moves her fingers to the clasp of her bra, and elle curses softly when it sticks and it makes connie smile.

taking it off is sorta like stepping off a subway platform when you’re not sure if you stepped quite far enough and it would probably make janie laugh to know she’s comparing the risk of death or injury to connie murphy’s boobs, but she’s never seen anyone’s boobs before, and certainly not touched them, and when it is discarded on the floor in the ever-growing pile of clothes there are her boobs, and at first she can’t do anything but stare.

‘how’d you get your nipple pierced? you’re a minor and your parents would hate it.’ she talks to fill the silence and drag out the moment before she’s expected to do something and connie chuckles.

‘yeah, that’s why my parents don’t know, dumbass.’

elle puts her hands on the sides of connie’s ribcage and brushes her thumbs over her nipples, experimental because she’s never touched any boobs besides her own, but connie closes her eyes and sighs appreciatively, so she keeps going and when she stops connie opens her eyes again and elle raises her eyebrows questioningly and it clicks with connie in a second what she’s asking.

‘of course you can, like,’ her voice drops to just above a whisper. ‘use your mouth, el.’

she always drops the le in text and even though it sounds the same elle swears she can hear the difference.

she leans down and runs her tongue over her teeth, trying to remember what they do in porn and she doesn’t start with connie’s pierced nipple, because that feels somehow like more pressure, and she sucks gently, and connie’s hand finds her back, more steadying herself than anything, and she moans softly, like she’s embarrassed of it, but it’s definitely one of the better sounds that has ever been heard in these four walls. she flicks her tongue over connie’s pierced nipple, moving the barbell back and forth, and her girlfriend bites down on her fingers to stifle the noise she makes.

she doesn’t want to stop until connie puts a hand on her shoulder and pushes gently.

‘it’s not that i don’t like it, just… stop before i come, okay?’

she grins. ‘oh.’

connie rolls her eyes, turning red. ‘shut up.’

elle pulls her bralette over her head without overthinking it, tossing it on the ground and connie’s face is something like awe and elle has to resist the urge to cross her arms over her chest. her boobs aren’t, like, big, but they’re bigger than connie’s, and she kind of hides them in baggier t shirts the way she does with the curve of her waist and connie’s a virgin too, connie has never touched someone else’s breast before- she has and connie murphy hasn’t, which is something she doesn’t know how to feel about- so the staring isn’t unwelcome, and after a second she blinks and snaps out of it and her hands find elle’s chest appreciatively and it’s nothing like what she imagined in that it’s exactly what she imagined but _better._

‘do you want me to…?’

she nods, her hands landing on connie’s thighs and then her _mouth-_ jesus, she could write love letters about connie murphy’s mouth and it strikes her that she just might, maybe that’s how she’ll tell janie about tonight, and poetry begins to write itself in the corner of her brain that isn’t made up entirely of _yes god yes_ and she moans connie’s name.

‘god, you’re loud.’

she feels herself flush as connie grins at her, her smile all crooked and her eyes teasing.

‘shut up.’

‘i like it.’

that robs elle of anything she could’ve said, and so she settles for kissing connie again.

their hands find each other’s bodies, miles of soft skin, freckled and scarred and belonging to _them_ , and connie’s touch is perfect, like it always is, and elle feels like a bonfire, warm and crackling, heat pooling in her stomach, and she wasn’t very aware up until now that _want_ is an emotion. her fingers end up curled around the waistband of connie’s panties, and they break the kiss to hold their foreheads together and whisper, ‘you sure?‘

and in a few seconds they are naked and it all feels very _real_ , the idea that they’re doing it tonight, and it is _hot_ , in a temperature sense and an attractive one. it is heat and skin and elle is suddenly conscious of the fact that she hasn’t shaved where she told alan to ask janie to ask connie her preferences on- according to janie she had blushed some and told her to fuck off, which meant ‘don’t shave, she has no expectations for that kinda thing’, apparently, so she didn’t and it turns out connie didn’t either, which doesn’t bother her- obviously it looks different from most porn and it makes her wonder what it means for, like, her mouth, but it’s not _bad_ , so she hopes connie isn’t worrying about it.

connie doesn’t shave anywhere, though, so as everything moves to a more horizontal place and their legs rub together, connie’s soft hair meets elle’s smooth skin and it is strangely nice.

connie ends up on top, her hair falling into her face and her eyes nervous, and she kisses down elle’s neck, to her collarbones and her breasts and her hips until she is between her legs. elle grasps at the covers as connie kisses her thighs, and then _jesus,_ jerking off is nowhere near as good as this, nothing is as good as connie, feeling her mouth and her hair between elle’s fingers and clutching the sheets, thankful the house is empty.

she tugs at connie’s hair, and she is suddenly aware of how close she is- they’ve been kissing and shit for so long that connie’s tongue against her clit is enough to bring her near the edge, and she pushes at her shoulder.

connie sits up- elle feels herself blush when she realizes her lips are wet- and before she can say anything, elle rests her hands on her hips and says, softly, ‘c’mere,’ and gently pulls her forward to sit on her face.

she can hear the headboard creak under connie’s grip and then her cunt meets elle’s mouth and she responds with enthusiasm, quickly finding a rhythm that makes her girlfriend moan.

she takes care of her own needs with the hand that isn’t holding onto connie’s thigh; she gasps, ‘oh, fuck, _el,_ ’ and it makes her moan in response, hips bucking into her own touch and tongue working at connie, sure that she can’t last much longer, not with the sound of her in her ears, the sound of the most beautiful girl in the world absolutely unraveling, and she feels it building in her core as connie’s sounds become more fevered, desperate.

‘fuck, el-’ and she all but screams, her muscles clenching beneath elle’s tongue as she cries out, the taste of her on elle’s lips, and she moves to lie next to her, panting.

elle is still working herself over, gasping for connie, and she plants kisses on her erratic pulse and coos soft compliments until it’s too much and she crashes over the edge, everything inside her shattering.

it takes a few moments to get her breath back. she rolls over to face connie, grinning.

‘woah.’

connie snickers. ‘you’re good at that.’ she says, her hair tousled in an elegant mess and her cheeks pink.

elle scoots forward into her the embrace of her long arms, pressing a gentle kiss to one of the bruises starting to take shape on her collarbone, delighting in the way she shivers in response.

‘i love you.’ she says, the words slightly muffled by connie’s skin.

‘you too, loser.’

**Author's Note:**

> this was so self indulgent lmao  
> i love awkward slightly unsexy fuckin 
> 
> im thorsty for approval from my peers so let me know if u liked this


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